


Transportation

by Letters2london



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Subway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letters2london/pseuds/Letters2london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Karkat is a young struggling music student and Dave is an awkward self-produced Deejay and artist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are several things you hate in this world. Ketchup packets, sticky keyboards, slapstick humor... And public transportation. Ok, you take that back. You don't hate public transportation. It's bearable, you suppose. You actually hate the fact that you are so flat broke, that it's your only option. You also despise the fact that you have to catch the early morning train and do it all again after a long day at work. And you hate how the whole thing was one long routine. Ride, work, ride home. Ride..work...ride home. And the cycle would continue until Saturday. Today is no different. You're currently slumped down in a seat by the window staring down at the tracks, trying not to fall asleep. The train comes to a slow halt at the next stop. You glance at the people as they file in and find their seats. That godawful buzzer echoes through the train and the doors shut close. You turn to the window and get lost in your head once again. Your moment of meditation is short lived however, as you are rudely interrupted. Well not rudely...definitely not rudely. Pleasantly?... Yes pleasantly. Because instead of wallowing over your lack of funds and overwhelming responsibilities, you can focus fully on him. He took out his violin and began to play. Oh boy did he play. His eyes were shut and his forehead was creased in concentration as his bow came in contact with the strings. You watch the tired sunken faces of the passengers as their eyes spark with interest. He plays something slow, something sweet and soft. And he seems to be vanquishing the stress within them all and leaving them as relaxed puddles in their seat. You find yourself almost dozing off, eyes fluttering slowly. Not out of boredom, and no longer exhaustion, but of true peace and content. It was a feeling you could easily get used to. He plays piece after piece for what seems like forever and the cart stays silent and appreciative with small smiles planted on their faces. Well, a good number of them react this way. There were a select few wearing angry scowls and you decide that they are complete assholes. Like all good things, and all great things for that matter, his playing eventually stopped. And as soon as he finished his last piece, the passengers sunk back into their depressed lethargic states. He packed his violin into its case along with the bow. The train made another stop and people dropped money in his cup on the way out. He thanks them with a slight smile and a nod. You get up from your seat and push your way through the crowd and stood in front of him. You gave him an awkward half smile.  
"Hey." His eyebrows cocked up in interest.  
"Hi."  
"Dave."  
"Karkat."  
"Weird name.."  
"Not where I'm from."  
"Uh great playing by the way. I dabble in music myself. I'm a Deejay at the club on Broad Street on the weekend. I'm a waiter during the week. I've been making my own stuff lately." He nodded. You blush a little at his lack of interest.  
"Why are you wearing sunglasses at night?" You smile shyly.  
"I always wear them. It's like my thing." He raises his eyebrows again and you start to get nervous. You clear your throat.  
"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"  
"Maybe."  
"Maybe I'll see you."  
"Maybe you will." There's a slight pause as the train comes to a halt.  
"This is my stop."  
"Wait." You grab his hand and give him a few crumbled bills.  
"I'd give you more, but this is all I got." He smiles at you. Like actually smiles at you.  
"Thanks." He walks out and gives you a small wave from the platform and you find yourself more tired than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day you wake up with such gusto that you seem to alarm even yourself. Your roommate only raises an eyebrow at you as you swallow your breakfast whole.  
"Hey, where's the fire?" You find yourself slowing down almost immediately. You push up your shades and pretend to look in his eyes but really you're looking everywhere else.   
"There's a lack of staff today down at the diner. You know how busy it gets in the morning. Everybody wants there fucking coffee." You lie through your teeth because there's no way in unforgiving hell you would admit your intentions. You woke up this morning with one goal in mind, to meet him again. And through your illogical eyes, getting to work as quickly as possible meant getting to him as quickly as possible, even though you still had to wait for your shift to pass. Part of you was aimlessly wishing that he'd show up near the diner while you were working and you could run after him and you don't even know...ask him out for pizza? Something.   
"I should probably get going." John gave you another suspicious stare before letting out a sigh of disinterest.  
"Whatever man. See you tonight." And with that you were flying out the door and running to the subway. It was stupid. It was so stupid, but you couldn't help it. You were bored and you were stressed and you need something new, someone new, to give you some release. A new adventure to get your mind off it all.   
You finally reach the front door of the diner and part of you wants to glance at the nameless faces as they pass for him. But that's ridiculous. You let out a silent sigh and push open the door. You lied about it being busy in the morning by the way. It's actually really really fucking slow. You guess you were just really hoping to catch him on the way here, but you know shit happens. The only one here today is Martha. She's sitting in her usual booth staring at the menu like she doesn't order the same thing everyday. And you can't help but always give her the best service you can even when you aren't her waiter.  
"Good Morning Martha." She gives you a wide loving grin and you melt a little.  
"Davey! How are you honey?" You smile slightly.  
"I'm doing well. Did someone take your order already?"  
"Of course."  
"Well I go in the kitchen to see if it's ready for you." You give her one last smile and stroll into the kitchen.  
"Jane?"  
"Hello Strider! How are you this fine morning?" Jane, your boss, was a spunky cute young woman that just so happened to speak just like your grandmother. You give her a half smile and say you're doing well. She raises an eyebrow skeptically at you and try not to roll your eyes because she's in charge of your paycheck. Which reminds you that you were going to ask for a raise this week.   
"Earth to strider~." You glance at her over your shoulder.  
"What's got your knickers in a twist mate?" You snort.  
"I'm sorry I don't know speak grandma."  
"Oh don't get cheeky with me. You know damn well what I mean. You're entirely off this morning." You sigh and actually look at her this time. She's wearing that famous mischievous Crocker grin and you know she's going to put you through hellish interrogation.   
"You meant someone didn't you?" You feel your cheeks heat under your shades.  
"You bastard, you did! And you weren't going to tell me?!" You remain silent.  
"Come on spill it! Is it a girl?" You start to wonder if there's a way to be any quieter than you already are, but you decide the only way that could be possible is if you're dead.  
"Ohhh so it's a boy this time?" Your face gets hotter and you still aggressively plead the fifth.  
"You met a boy on your way home from work and you're already arse over elbow for him aren't ya?" You give up on the silent treatment thing. In all honesty you knew it would be short lived getting into it.  
"Yes I met a boy. Yes I met him on the ride home. No I'm not 'arse over elbow' for him..whatever the hell that means. He was playing violin in my subway car. He was a really passionate player and he was also kinda...really cute. So when he stopped playing I gave him a few bills and introduced myself and found out his name was Karkat. That's it."   
"Au contraire. I believe there's going to be more to this story~." Jane wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.  
"But Jane there won't be." You wanted to say more. You wanted to go on a long tangent about how shit like that never works out and how you were never gonna see that guy again. You wanted to tell her that he would go the rest of his life without you even crossing his mind. You also kinda wanted to cry a little bit. Not a lot. Just like one tear for your dry love life. You also-  
"Dave a customer just came in. Can you go give them a table and take their order?" You guess your angsty rant was going to have to wait. You trudge out the kitchen and you're all ready to put on your crowd pleasing smile when you see him. Shit.... Shit.. Shit. Oh shit. Aw hell.. You scurry back into the kitchen practically tripping over yourself.   
"Jane." You say in that panicked whisper-scream voice everyone use when this kind of sitcom bull happens.   
"What is it Dave?" You're pressed up against the wall clenching your heart when she turns to look at you.  
"He's here!"  
"Who's here?" You furrow your eyebrows in frustration. Jane gives you a look that tells you it finally clicked.  
"Oh.. Oh!"   
"What do I do?!"   
"Go take his order?"   
"I can't do that!"   
"But you were just all glum because you thought you'd never see him again... And here he is, shouldn't you be happy?"  
"In theory yes. But in actuality no."   
"I'm not getting this at all."  
"You're not supposed to."  
"Can you just take his order? I'm running a business and no one else is here today." You start to wonder if that's her real concern right now. But there's no fighting Jane's final word.  
"Fine.." You open the kitchen door slowly and peek through the crack. You take a deep breath and decide you're being completely ridiculous. You straighten yourself out and smooth the wrinkles out your clothes and actually walk out the door this time. When you make eye contact with him you immediately regret your decision to be brave. But it's too late. It's either you put your big boy pants on, or you make an idiot out of yourself. So you jump into said "big boy pants" and walk over to him with your best "I'm good at my job" expression. He's wearing a neutral expression as he sizes you up.  
"Hi sorry for the wait, had a little bit of an emergency in the kitchen." He nods slowly. You seat him at a booth in the corner and hand him a menu. You whip out your notepad and smile at him with as much confidence as you can muster up.   
"Can I get you something to drink?" He scans the menu briefly and looks up at you.  
"Coffee..please." You write it down even though you know you don't need to.  
"Alright I'll get that to you in just a moment." You give him one last nod and turn around toward the kitchen. Jane is staring at you slyly intently when you open the door.  
"Soo?"  
"So what?"  
"How'd it go?"  
"He wants a coffee." She rolls her eyes  
"That's it? You didn't talk to him more?" You shrug.  
"I still have time to talk to him." You try to sound confident, but you're admittedly nervous. You're trying not to be, but something about your inability to read his face that made you uneasy. But then again, it's like 8 in the morning?? Like who's honestly busting out the seems with personality this early? You get him his coffee and head towards the door once again.  
"He's cute by the way." You pause for a second.  
"You know in a miserable kind of way. And I'm a sucker for redheads." You smirk at her and walk out the door. You walk over to his booth again and set the coffee in front of him.  
"Here you go." He gives you a quiet thank you and immediately goes for the sugar and cream.  
"You don't like your coffee black? You strike me as the type"  
"Whoever drinks black coffee is desperately trying to impress people because black coffee taste like literal feces." He mumbles. You laugh lightly.  
"Word. So what can I get you today?"  
"I think I'm actually good. I don't usually eat breakfast."  
"You sure? We've got some pretty bangin donuts. Our cook puts chain restaurants to shame." He smiles up at you.   
"Ok well if that's the case can I have a Boston creme?" You smile back at him.  
"Coming right up." You turn toward the kitchen again.   
"Jane we need a Boston creme."   
"Got it." She takes on of the pre-made donuts from earlier and sticks it in the oven.  
"So how's it going out there?" You're growing wary over her constant need of an update  
"I'm not really sure what you want to happen Jane." She rolls her eyes.  
"Fine. I guess Mr. Strider is too coy to share the details of his early morning rendezvous." You chuckle.  
"I'll text you tonight about it...maybe" she pulls the donut out of the oven.  
"Take the damn donut you prick." You snort.  
"Thank you Jane." You walk back to his booth and lay the donut in front of him.   
"Bon Appetit."   
"Thanks." He studies your face for a moment and you try not to blush.  
"Hey...have we met before." You give him an awkward half smile.  
"Yeah, actually. We met in the subway yesterday." You can see the red tint over the freckles on his nose and cheeks.   
"Wow I'm a fucking moron.. Dave, right?"  
"Yeah. Karkat?"  
"Yup that would be me." There's an awkward pause.  
"So..do you want to sit down..and talk?"   
"No I'm actually really busy right now." Karkat looked skeptically around the restaurant and then raised an eyebrow at you.  
"Kidding."   
"Oh." You slide into the booth and rest your face on one of your hand.  
"So, tell me about yourself." He rolls his eyes.  
"I'll just pretend what you said wasn't the most cliché shit I've ever heard." You scuff jokingly.  
"Ok, but seriously what's your story?"   
"Well where do you want me to start?" You flash another smile at him and pretend it's not the 80th time you've done that before you say "Anywhere." because smooth is your middle name.   
He's reluctant to share anything at first, but as he realizes you're fairly attentive he opens up a bit more. You learn that he attends the state college not to far from here. You also learn that he's a dual major in journalism and music. He runs an advice column for the school's newspaper under the pseudonym Nancy and the column's title is "Nancy Tell You How It Is". (You make a mental note to ask about that later). He also has a movie review blog which is apparently pretty successful. He finally tells you about his actual job at the youth orchestra center as a music teacher for kids. He continues to tell you that they have a concert every couple of months. When you hear this you can't help but smile yet again. (This is getting ridiculous)  
"That's cute." He shrugs trying to hide his blush, but it was hard considering he's, you know, a redhead.  
"I guess so. It pays the bills...sorta. It's really hard to keep your cool sometimes though because there are times they really just don't get it and you wanna be like you're an insufferable moron. But then you're like oh its just a kid, they don't know any better. But for some odd reason, all the frustration's worth it in the end." You stare at him because this guy's really something. He clears his throat before looking at his watch.  
"I should really get going." He gets up and gets his stuff out of the booth. He scribbles something down on a napkin and hands it to you.  
"That's the url to my blog." You raise an eyebrow at him.  
"I was kinda hoping for your number." He doesn't bother to turn around as he says,  
"Well, we all hope for something in life don't we Dave?" And with that he's out the door leaving you with a slightly used napkin and a goofy looking smirk.


End file.
